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"A'm to do naething o' the kind," retorted Speug, turning a dark red at this insult. "Nane o' yir impidence." "Maybe you're f-frightened to come," said Nestie, and dodged at the same time behind a lamp-post. "Why, Speug, I didn't know you were f-frightened of anything." "Naither I am," said Speug stoutly; "an' if it had been Jock Howieson said that, I'd black his eyes.
"Oh, Ronald!" she sighed, her lips quivering suddenly, "I am glad you are better but oh, my dear, I wish I were dead!" "There, there, Clo!" he muttered, patting her stooping shoulder, "I f-frightened you, I suppose. But I'm all right now, dear. W-where's Chichester?" "I don't know, Ronald." "But you, Cleone? You came here to m-meet this this Beverley?" "Yes, Ronald." "D'you know w-what he is?
"Have you heard your ghostly motor again?" "Oh, much worse!" cried Violet. "We heard a ghost playing a piano!" said Laura. "Listen," commanded Billie. "There it goes again. Oh, Mrs. Gilligan, I'm f-frightened." Mrs. Gilligan listened, and even she, matter-of-fact, humorous Irishwoman that she was, felt that same strange tendency on the part of her hair to stand up straight in the air.
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